


give me back my young brother, hard and furious

by suzukiblu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brothers, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury Recovery, Noodle Dragons, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: “You are hurt,” Genji says.“I am not,” Hanzo lies. “Mercy used her staff.”“Angela’s staff does not help with the dragons,” Genji says, and of course he’d know. Obviously he would.
Relationships: Genji Shimada & Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 7
Kudos: 394





	give me back my young brother, hard and furious

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an idea from beckyh2112. I took a break from writing longer stuff to scribble this one out, ‘cause I needed the break.

When the mission is over, Hanzo faints. The indignity of this fact is not helped by the fact that the _cowboy_ is the one to carry him back to the dropship. He tries to walk when he regains consciousness, but his legs are too weak and his body too exhausted. 

“Hey, careful there, partner,” McCree says, which is possibly the only civil thing the man’s said to him since meeting him. McCree is . . . not thrilled about what he did to Genji. 

Neither is Hanzo, so McCree makes better company than the more forgiving members of Overwatch. If Tracer or Winston tries to coax him away from his training to socialize one more time . . . 

He isn’t like them. He’s not here to do good or protect something or save the world; he’s here to atone for past sins. 

One past sin, that is. 

McCree gets him to the dropship, and Hanzo slumps into his seat and . . . blacks out, just a bit. Just for a moment. 

Or several very long moments. 

“Hanzo! _Hanzo_!” he wakes up to, and stares blurrily at McCree and—Mercy. The one who saved Genji’s life, after he’d already ruined it. They’re kneeling in front of him, for some reason. 

“Did you hit your head?” Mercy asks worriedly, holding her glowing staff towards him. Various small aches and pains disappear, even the ache of overused muscle, but the bone-deep exhaustion is not affected. Of course not—this is not a physical exhaustion. 

“Mm,” Hanzo says, because apparently voicing an actual answer is too much, and lets his eyes close again. He hears them both talking worriedly, but if it’s to each other or him, who knows? He’s too tired to figure it out. 

By the time they get back to base, he can stand under his own power again, and he rejects McCree’s offer of assistance. He is fine. He can handle himself. 

He doesn’t deserve their empathy, anyway. He prefers the McCree who eyes him with suspicion and the Mercy who barely speaks to him. Even if he didn’t, there’s no real injury here. All he needs is to go back to his bunk and sleep it off, just like the last three missions. 

Genji is waiting outside the ship, and Hanzo’s heart sinks into his gut. 

“Brother,” Genji says. His dragon materializes around his shoulders, emerald-bright and shining, as perfect and flawless as he will never be again, and Hanzo walks straight past them without a word, clutching Storm Bow painfully tightly in his hand. His own dragons do not rise in turn, which is good, because he’d probably faint again if they tried. 

Genji follows him, which is _not_ good. 

“Brother,” Genji says again, low and strange. It’s a tone Hanzo doesn’t recognize, coming from him. It’s almost . . . _stern_. 

“Brother,” he answers neutrally. He does not say anything else. He concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other and walking like a sober man and not a drunkard. 

Genji’s dragon glides in front of him, and he stops. 

“You are hurt,” Genji says. 

“I am not,” Hanzo lies. “Mercy used her staff.” 

“Angela’s staff does not help with the dragons,” Genji says, and of course he’d know. Obviously he would. “They called me when you would not wake. I reviewed the mission footage.” 

“Your point?” Hanzo says. 

“You called the dragons _four times_ ,” Genji says. 

“Yes,” Hanzo says, because obviously there’s no arguing with mission footage, and also because it was actually five, but he doesn’t want Genji to know that. 

“There was no need for that,” Genji says. 

“It got the job done, did it not?” Hanzo says. He waves Genji’s dragon aside. It nips at his fingers, but it goes, and he walks past it. Genji follows him again, because he is a merciless little bastard who always follows him, no matter how hard he tries to chase him away. “I do not see the problem.” 

“You know how taxing it is to summon them too often,” Genji says. “You know better than I—you have _two_ of them.” 

“Yes, and I know my limits,” Hanzo says. 

“You _fainted_ ,” Genji says. “On McCree. You do not even _like_ McCree.” 

“A minor setback,” Hanzo says. He likes McCree better than most of the others. McCree looks at him like he deserves. “I am fine, obviously.” 

“You are obviously not,” Genji says. 

“I do not see the problem. This is what you wanted, yes?” Hanzo says. “For me to come here and do what I could?” 

“What you could, yes,” Genji says. “But not to the detriment of your _life_.” 

“My _life_ is fine,” Hanzo snorts. His room is too far away. He wants to shut a door between them. He wants to move faster, but he is too exhausted. 

“You are hurting yourself,” Genji says. 

“I am not,” Hanzo lies. He doesn’t understand why Genji is talking to him about this. Even if he did hurt himself, doesn’t he deserve it? No pain could possibly pay back the pain he visited upon Genji; no pain could ever make up for such a brutal betrayal. He could summon the dragons a thousand times, until his tattoo fucking _bled_ , and still it would not be enough. 

“You are,” Genji says. “Brother, that is not what I want from you. I want you to see you atone, but I do not want to see you _suffer_.” 

“It was one mission,” Hanzo says in exasperation, waving him off. 

“I watched the other missions too,” Genji says, and Hanzo stiffens. “It was not just the once. It has been every time. This is just the first time you passed out before you got back to the ship, is it not?” 

“You are making assumptions,” Hanzo says. 

“I am _right_ ,” Genji says sharply, grabbing his arm as his dragon twines loosely around Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo would pull away, but he really might fall over if he tried. At the least, he’d drop Storm Bow, and then he’d have to lean over to pick it _up_ and his head is already swimming as it is. “This is not a thing that you do in desperation or when something has gone wrong. You do it every time, no matter how simple the mission. Just because the others do not realize how it costs you, do not think that I do not.” 

“You are making assumptions,” Hanzo repeats. He’s _so_ tired. He just wants to lay down. 

“I am not a child any longer,” Genji says. “You cannot put me off so easily.” 

“I am doing my _job_ ,” Hanzo says, baring his teeth at him. “The job you wanted me to do! Do not complain how I do it!” 

“I want you _well_!” Genji snaps. “Hiding away from everyone and burning yourself out is no kind of atonement!” 

“I can handle it!” Hanzo says. 

“Clearly you can _not_!” 

“And how would you know?!” 

“I am _looking_ at you!” Genji says. “You look terrible! The worst I have ever seen you! Angela thought you were _dying_!” 

“I am _fine_!” Hanzo spits. 

“Then show me your dragons,” Genji demands, his own curling tight around Hanzo’s neck and shoulders. “You are fine, yes? You can summon their small forms.” 

“I am not performing _party tricks_ for your amusement!” Hanzo says angrily. 

“Show me now, or I will tell Winston to stop sending you on missions,” Genji says. 

“You are the one who _wants_ me on missions!” Hanzo snarls. 

“Show me,” Genji says again, and Hanzo _glares_ at him. Fine. Fine, damn it. He can summon their small forms. He’s called them out enough today, what’s once more? 

_“Fine,”_ he says, and unleashes them. 

The next thing he knows, he’s on the floor, staring up at Genji’s masked face and looming dragon and feeling numb all over as the other says . . . something frantic. Something. It’s hard to hear past the ringing in his ears. 

“—you stubborn _idiot_ , I cannot believe you actually—of course you did! Of course!” Genji fumes furiously. Hanzo . . . blinks, slowly, and tries to reorient himself. His hands are numb and shaking. He can barely feel his legs. 

He might be in shock, he realizes distantly. 

That is . . . not ideal. 

“Can you hear me?!” Genji says. “Brother?!” 

Hanzo . . . is tired, mostly, and just lets his head slump. He’ll worry about whatever Genji is so upset about later, he thinks vaguely. 

_“HANZO!”_

The next time Hanzo wakes up, he’s on his back in a bed in the medical bay and Genji’s dragon is curled up on his chest. It perks up immediately and chirps at him. He . . . looks at it, mostly. How did he get here? He doesn’t remember. 

Genji is not going to be happy about that, he thinks. 

Genji’s dragon chirps again and kneads at his chest with its talons. Hanzo grimaces, lifting a heavy hand to dissuade it before its claws draw blood. The action is much harder than it should be. He . . . was talking to Genji, yes? About something? 

Oh. Yes. 

About this. 

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. Genji’s dragon nuzzles his hand, and it’s too heavy and slow for Hanzo to pull back effectively. 

He could drop it, he realizes distantly, but his head is heavy and aching and stuffed full of cotton and he can’t quite manage to get his hand to listen to him. 

Yes, Genji is definitely not going to be happy about this. 

The door opens, and Mercy steps in. 

“Oh!” she exclaims, hurrying over to him. “You’re awake! How do you feel?” 

“Like going back to sleep,” Hanzo says, grimacing as she looms over him worriedly. He prefers her silence to her concern. 

“He is awake?” Genji says from the doorway, and it’s all Hanzo can do not to groan. Damn it. He should’ve known Genji would be close, with his dragon right here. “You idiot!” 

“If you keep shouting, I will kill you again and I will not be sorry,” Hanzo says darkly, putting a weak hand to his throbbing head. He feels like he just took a punch from a truck, and then it ran him over for good measure. 

“I am so glad you are alright,” Genji says, sounding relieved. He comes into the room and his dragon chirps brightly at him, but doesn’t leave Hanzo’s side. 

“I told you, I am fine,” Hanzo says. He tries to sit up. It . . . doesn’t work. To put it mildly. 

“Don’t try to get up yet, you need your rest,” Mercy cautions him. “You could fall again.” 

There is, Hanzo notes in disgust, a bright yellow plastic medical bracelet that says “FALL RISK” strapped to his wrist. As if he’s some kind of _invalid_. 

“I am _fine_ ,” he says again. “I do not need— _coddled_.” 

“I would just let you try to get up and prove it to yourself, but apparently you are not above doing something that stupid,” Genji says dryly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You did not even have the strength to actually summon the dragons, you realize. You just fainted outright when you tried.” 

“Shut up,” Hanzo replies sourly, as a man with no helpful comeback. Genji hums, tilting his head. 

“You worried me, brother,” he says, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm as if he needs _soothed_. Hanzo glances heavenwards in supplication, but is too tired to bother shrugging him off. “You have been asleep for hours.” 

“We couldn’t wake you,” Mercy says apologetically, like she actually could’ve done something. Hanzo . . . sighs, and rolls his eyes. This is _embarrassing_. 

“It was just a bad day,” he says. 

“It was worse than that,” Genji says, squeezing his arm. “You cannot do that again.” 

“I did nothing,” Hanzo lies. Genji seems unimpressed with the denial. 

“Angela, if we could have a moment, please,” he says, and she slips out. “I know exactly what you did. You were punishing yourself.” 

“Someone might as well be,” Hanzo says, throwing an arm across his eyes with another sigh. It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to, so he definitely won’t be admitting to it. 

“I think that is up to me, yes?” Genji says, squeezing his other arm again. “If you truly wish to make up for what you have done, that is.” 

“You are not going to dictate the rest of my life,” Hanzo says irritably, lip curling in annoyance. 

“No, but this is a case where you should listen to me anyway,” Genji says. “Punishing yourself will accomplish nothing. It will only hurt you.” 

“So you say,” Hanzo says. 

“What do you think I did?” Genji asks with a low, humorless laugh, dropping his hand away from his arm. “I was merciless with myself. I had been weak. Slow. Stupid. I deserved what had happened to me.” 

“You did _not_ ,” Hanzo says, yanking down his arm and staring at him in disbelief. “What I did to you was wrong.” 

“Yes, it was,” Genji agrees. “And hurting myself did not make it right.” 

Hanzo pushes himself up onto his elbows. It’s a struggle, but he manages it. Genji waits patiently, like he has all day. His dragon curls around Hanzo’s shoulders. 

“I did wrong by you,” Hanzo says tightly. “I _chose_ to do wrong by you. That is not the same.” 

“Perhaps, but it is not entirely different,” Genji says, reaching out to stroke his dragon, who churrs in pleasure and leans into the touch. Hanzo’s dragons have never been so affectionate. “I did not want that life. You granted my desire.” 

“In the worst possible way,” Hanzo says, his fists clenching against the sheets. Genji continues to stroke his dragon, who continues to make happy little noises of contentment as if they’re talking about _anything_ else. 

“In the worst possible way,” Genji agrees. His dragon slides off Hanzo’s shoulders and floats over to him, twining around his arm. “But that is a burden that you must carry, not a weapon to turn on yourself.” 

“I will never be free of what I have done,” Hanzo rasps roughly, his chest painfully tight. “Nothing I do matters.” 

“Then why do you hurt yourself?” Genji says. “If nothing you do matters, then no punishment matters. If there is nothing you can do to take away this burden, why make it heavier?” 

“It is what I deserve,” Hanzo says, because it is, because he is too tired to lie, because this is all too much. Because Genji, of all people, deserves the truth from him. 

“What about me?” Genji says. “What does it do for me?” 

“. . . nothing,” Hanzo mutters, because he knows Genji takes no pleasure in his pain or punishment. He wouldn’t have hidden it from him otherwise. 

“I deserve things too,” Genji says. 

“You deserve what I cannot give you,” Hanzo says, fists tightening even further. 

“On the contrary,” Genji says, shaking his head. Hanzo hates his mask, and hates himself for making it happen. “You are the only one who can give me what I deserve.” 

“That is not true,” Hanzo says. 

“It is,” Genji says. “I deserve my brother. However he comes, whatever he is like—I deserve him.” 

“Genji,” Hanzo says, his voice aching in his throat. Genji lays a hand on his leg. 

“Stop hurting yourself, Hanzo,” he says, quiet and simple. Hanzo’s chest hurts. Most of him hurts, at the moment. Exhaustion, grief, and guilt are all of them so intense inside him and manifesting as physical pain. 

“I cannot,” he says, because Genji deserves the truth, still, and he cannot lie to him. 

“Then I will stop you,” Genji says, his dragon luminous and perfect on his ruined shoulder. Hanzo doesn’t even know what that means; cannot imagine what it could. But . . . 

“Alright,” he says, and isn’t sure what to call the feeling in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


End file.
